Stepsister(100)

“For God’s sake, seal it up!” the lieutenant thundered, his hand over his nose.

The soldier who’d pried up a corner of the lid now frantically hammered it back down with the butt of his dagger.

“I’ve half a mind to tell the good Colonel Cafard what you’ve done,” Tavi continued. “We are not kidnapping anyone. We are poor, grieving folk trying to bury our loved ones!”

“My apologies, madame. Drive on!” the lieutenant said, waving his hand.

Hugo nodded, then clucked his tongue. Martin trotted off. Isabelle, still facing backward, quickly slid the lid back over the dead dog. It lessened the stink, but Hugo urged Martin into a canter nonetheless, in an attempt to outrun the lingering fumes. A few minutes later, they crested the hill, leaving the soldiers behind them.

When they’d made it down the other side, Hugo stopped the wagon. He leaned forward, breathing heavily. His hands were shaking.

“That was very, very close,” Felix said, a tremor in his voice.

“We don’t know if that’s the only patrol. We should keep going,” Isabelle urged.

Hugo sat up, having caught his breath. “I need my glasses back. Before I drive us off the road.”

Ella handed them to him. “Thank you, all of you. You saved my life,” she said.

“It was Tavi,” said Hugo. “She made that thing.”

Tavi shook her head modestly. “It was Leeuwenhoek.”

“Who?” Ella asked, as Hugo started off again.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell it to you one day. If we live long enough,” Isabelle said grimly. Hugo coaxed Martin into a canter again. As he did, one of the wagon’s wheels caught a pothole and jounced Tavi to the edge of her seat.

Ella grabbed hold of her, then took her hand to keep her safe. She took Isabelle’s hand, too. As the wagon sped through what remained of the night, neither Isabelle, nor Tavi, nor Ella let go.





One Hundred and Nineteen


The stars were fading as Martin trotted up the drive of the Maison Douleur to the linden tree. Before Hugo had even brought him to a halt, the others were out of the wagon.

An inquisitive whinny carried through the grounds. Isabelle knew it was one of the two rescued horses that now lived in the pasture. Martin whinnied back. Ella stared at what was left of the mansion.

“I’m sorry, Ella. It was your home. Long before it was ours,” Isabelle said.

“I don’t miss it,” Ella said. “I hope all the ghosts escaped when the walls fell in.”

Felix and Hugo had already carried one of the coffins to the base of the linden tree. Felix pried the lid off with a knife he’d tucked into his pocket.

Tavi and Isabelle carried the second coffin. Felix pried the lid off that one, too. Then they all turned to Ella.

“How do we do it?” Felix asked her. “How do we summon Tanaquill?”

“I—I don’t actually know,” Ella said. “Isabelle, do you?”

Isabelle felt a flutter of panic. “No,” she said. “I can’t remember exactly what I did.”

Ella took a deep breath. “Let me think … I remember walking to the linden tree after everyone had left for the ball. I was so upset. I wanted to go more than I’ve ever wanted anything. With my whole heart. And then suddenly, she just appeared.”

“A tall woman …” Felix said with a shiver in his voice.

“Yes,” said Ella.

“With red hair and green eyes and sharp teeth.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” Felix said, pointing past them to the ruins. “She’s already here.”





One Hundred and Twenty


Tanaquill walked out of the shadows.

She wore a gown made of black beetle shells that gleamed darkly in the moon’s waning light. Her crown was a circlet of bats. Three young adders curled around her neck; their heads rested like jewels on her collarbones.

Tanaquill addressed Ella. “I did not expect to see you back here. And certainly not in the company of your stepsisters. All you wanted when last we spoke was to get away from this place. Now you return?”

“I would not be here, standing in front of you, if Isabelle had not rescued me from a traitor’s plot. If Octavia had not thrown my enemies off my scent. I owe them my life. Now Isabelle needs your help, Your Grace.”

Tanaquill circled Isabelle. She placed a sharp black talon under her chin and lifted it.

“Have you found all the pieces, girl?”

“Yes, Your Grace. I-I think so. I hope so,” Isabelle said.

“And now that your heart is whole, what does it tell you?”

Isabelle looked down at her clenched hands. She thought of Malleval and tears of anger welled in her eyes. She thought of the grand duke coolly arranging the deaths of his young king and queen. She remembered the sweet weight of a sword in her hand.

“It tells me impossible things,” she whispered.

“Do you still desire to be pretty? Say the word and I will make it so.”

Isabelle looked up at the sky for some time, blinking her tears away. “No,” she finally said.

“What is it that you wish for, then?” Tanaquill asked.

“An army,” Isabelle replied, meeting the fairy queen’s eyes. “I wish to raise an army against Volkmar and the grand duke. I wish to save my family, my friends, my country.”